His Boys
by Written Fire
Summary: Four times the Sheriff laughed at other's reactions to Scott and Stiles' friendship and the one time he was surprised himself.


_So this is not what I started out with. At all. It started out as something different, and then just became a fic of moments. In 5+1 style, actually, which-love that. I had literally no control over this, it wouldn't let me until I did this. So yeah. Just. *headdesk* It's what I wanted, but not what I intended. Which...well...can't really complain about that now can I._

 _I don't know the details on his mom's death...or even his parents_ names... _so I drew inspiration on their names from fics I've read, and for her death… Well, the timing I chose is pretty personal._

 _I hope that you all enjoy this as much as do; I kid you not, writing this made me ridiculously happy. I've no idea why._

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf! And that is a-okay with me.

* * *

Watching people realize how close his son and his best friend were was the Sheriff's secret favorite past time. It never failed that every time they went somewhere new, his boys would be themselves and cause someone to have that look of perplexed frustration on their face that made him and Melissa laugh, when they recounted it over drinks later.

No one could ever decide if they were together romantically, or if they were just really, _really_ close friends. They were never approached about it, and the two friends in question never seemed to notice the effect they had on people, which just made it better, in his opinion.

After things had settled down in town, and Stiles had finally told him what it was that he was involved in ( _werewolves;_ he was still wrapping his head around that)he had a whole new group of people to watch discover just how close his kids were to each other.

* * *

1.

"Scott, would you hurry up? We're going to miss it!" Stiles exclaimed, grabbing onto his hand and tugging as hard as he could.

Scott just laughed and shifted the grip so that they were holding hands more comfortably, speeding up to satisfy him. "We're not going to miss their panel, Stiles; it's not for another hour at least!"

"But if we don't get there early we're going to miss all the good seats! Front row Scotty, front row!" Huffing when that just elicited more laughter Stiles flipped him off with his free hand, cringing a second later. John raised a brow when their eyes met, knowing that Stiles could see the amusement in his when he just smiled sheepishly back. His son may be a few months away from being eighteen, but that didn't mean he couldn't choose to reprimand him for his language or actions. It was a parent's privilege.

Facing forward again Stiles continued to banter with Scott, their joined hands flinging about in a manner that Scott was obviously accustomed to. Turning to Melissa to make a comment on it he got stuck on the expression on Allison's face; chuckling softly he nudged Melissa gently with his elbow and cocked his head in the teenager's direction.

After sneaking a look back herself, Melissa turned to him and they shared a small smile.

* * *

2.

"So, who has letters from their colleges yet?" John asked, settling into his recliner and looking around at the pack that was scattered around his living room.

"I do, sir." Derek spoke up first, ignoring the looks of surprise on his beta's faces. "They said that they could transfer me into Beacon Hills Community College to finish my classes." He mumbled, handing over his letter with a light blush.

John looked it over and smiled fondly at him. "Congratulations, son." He could just hear the answering 'thank you, sir' underneath the swell of noise that the teenagers made as they swarmed Derek, questions and exclamations being aired. Based on their reactions, he could only guess that they didn't realize their Alpha had been going to school back in New York.

When it looked like Derek's face couldn't get any redder—and that he was seconds away from losing his cool—John called out, "Alright, leave him alone. Anyone else have a letter to share?" looking from Stiles and Scott specifically with a brow raised expectantly.

"Actually, I do." Scott admitted, walking to him and handing over an envelope. "I already showed mom, but I wanted you to know next." He smiled shyly at him, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels in nerves as he waited for John to read it.

Knowing how badly Scott had done with his grades Sophomore and Junior year he kept a straight face as he took the letter out, hiding his trepidation from him; as the words 'accepted' and 'scholarship' passed before his eyes John let out a relieved—and proud—grin, standing up to hug him. "Good job, Scott."

"What, what happened! Did you get in? Scottie!" Stiles interrupted their hug, making his dad laugh as he let go of Scott, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Yeah, I got in. Our top choice." Scott smiled, laughing elatedly as Stiles whooped and rushed forward to hug him. In a move that John and Melissa had seen happen many a time before, they overshot, and their mouths collided in what looked like a painful meshing of lips, not caring—or noticing—when it took a second to right it. They broke it with smiles as they hugged each other tight.

It was a sight that, judging from the looks on everyone's faces, the Pack had yet to see. John had no doubt they would be seeing it again when Stiles announced that he made it into their top choice, as well.

They didn't disappoint.

* * *

3.

This time of year was always hard on him and Stiles. Claudia's birthday, the big holidays, those were hard; but the anniversary of her death—so close to mother's day—was especially hard. Since finding themselves a new family, the day had been easier to handle. Though their love could never replace hers, the fact that it was no longer just the two of them was something great.

Saying that it was always just the two of them wasn't quite fair, though. Scott and Melissa had been there since before she had passed, and the boys had always been as close as brothers. Scott was a good friend to Stiles, especially in those months leading up to and after her death—he was there for him in a way that John couldn't be. The way he dealt with her death was something he would always be ashamed of.

Knowing how the two were with each other, the next time they shocked their friends came as no surprise to him.

It was the day after the anniversary; John and Stiles had spent the day together just the two of them, visiting her grave and watching her favorite movies all day. When they went to bed it was just the two of them in the house. John was not surprised at all to find another person when he awoke that morning.

He had woken first and checked on the boys before going to the kitchen to make breakfast, enough to feed them and Melissa when she came by to bring her son some clothes. As he was finishing the pancakes the Pack arrived, greeting him good morning before going to wake Stiles. Though they had been quiet to begin with it was the total lack of noise coming from upstairs that let him know they had found them cuddling.

The cuddling wasn't a new thing by any means, though by the reaction it was obvious that it was to them. He knew how it must look; they were sound asleep, Stiles' face pressed to Scott's arm and their legs tangled under the covers. One of Stiles' hands rested on Scott's stomach, fingers curled in his shirt, and Scott's head turned to the side and down, his breath ruffling Stiles' hair.

Since they first started having sleep overs when they were toddlers the two had somehow found a way to be touching, something that had obviously never changed over the years. Nothing was ever done to stop it, and in fact, pictures had been taken numerous times.

There was an entire photo album of them sleeping—it was only brought out when they felt like teasing them. Which judging by the faces of their friends when they slowly filtered back into the kitchen, would be sometime very soon.

* * *

4.

One of John's least favorite things about the supernatural being such a big part of their lives was the conflicts that the Pack found themselves in. Since being brought into the-know there hadn't been any major problems, something for which he was grateful for. But there was only so long that could last, a point proven when something came around Beacon Hills that was killing innocents left and right.

It was the first time in a long time that a Pack meeting ended up being serious and not just them kicking back as they had been for the last few months. For John, it was an eye opener into how they had survived those first few years when it had all began; he was glad that they all got along better now that they had some years under their belts. It made getting through the difficult meetings easier to handle.

As he told everyone of how the bodies had been found and what the coroner had reported had been done to them, he could see the grimaces and disgust on their faces. While hearing it was difficult, having to say it wasn't any better. He was just glad that as of yet, his son hadn't been the one to see the bodies.

Though he knew better, John liked to think that he could protect him from everything hideous in the world.

Once he had shared what information he had he stood back, arms crossed as he listened to what they all had to say. It didn't take long at all for tempers to rise and for them to snap at each other. Tensions were high, and it looked like as if at any moment someone was going to say or do something that they would later regret. He was prepared to step in and help them calm down when his son stood, ignoring everyone as he made his way across the room to where Scott sat.

Acting as if he couldn't feel the weight of all their stares he sat down next to him on the couch, throwing his legs over his and leaning against him, Scott's arm automatically wrapping around him. Once he was settled he looked around the room, tilting his chin up as if daring anyone to say something.

It was times like this that had John wondering if they found the reactions of those around them as amusing as he did. But in that moment, he knew that Stiles had most likely done it to distract everyone for a moment so that they could try discussing things again in a calmer manner—and it worked.

* * *

+1

The last time they caused those faces was a surprising revelation to even him, and instead of causing amusement as every other occasion had he found himself feeling relieved and unbelievably fond of his two boys.

John didn't know all the particulars of what had happened to them on that occasion; the Pack had explained it to him when it first started but he had been so worried about his son— _both_ of his sons—that he had heard, but not focused on the words. The only thing that stuck was the fact that they didn't know how to fix it, how to bring their memories back to them.

Having Stiles look at him and be wary was one of the worst things John had ever been through. Even when he was deep in the bottle with grief he had never done anything to cause him to be distrustful of him; yet with the memory loss, he was a stranger to his son, one that he wasn't sure that he could trust. The only one that either boy trusted was each other, something that was glaringly obvious.

It didn't take long after finding them to figure that out. Anytime someone went near them they reacted negatively, their hold on each other tightening until it looked painful. It wasn't until they had put space between them that they let one another go, just to link fingers in a show of solidarity.

The thing that was most confusing to everyone, John knew, was the level of trust they put in each other when they didn't even _know_ who the person _was._ It was beyond baffling. During the week and a half that they had been cursed they had slowly grown to build a trust with the Pack, and would let themselves be left alone—but the other was never far away. His son's trust in him was hard earned, but once given left him feeling more relieved than he had been since the entire event started.

Once it was discovered how to reverse the curse placed on them and return them to their normal selves, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, before rushing about to restore their memories. It wasn't until afterwards, when everyone was together and safe—Stiles and Scott asleep in the middle of the biggest bed they had, the Pack surrounding them—that it struck John.

Deaton had told them, at the end of his instructions, that the one person they would feel safe with, who would be able to lead them back to themselves was their _soulmate_. John was torn on his feelings about that; he was some parts surprised, and most parts _not._ It only made sense, in the end, when it came to the two of them. How could they be anything else?

* * *

 _So this, this was purely a self-indulgent fic. I just wanted best friend cuddles, and I hope that you all enjoyed their moments as I did._

 _Thank you all for reading this; it would be lovely if you would leave a review!_

 _:)_


End file.
